The Name of the Wind (64 page)

“Oi've always had a likin' for tae hinder parts, mesself,” Denna said, then flushed in embarrassment and looked down. Her
ohs
were better this time.

Schiem showed his true gentlemanly nature by refraining from any crude comments as he lay a thick slice of steaming meat atop her piece of bread. “Moind yer fingers. Give't a minute tae cool.”

Everyone set to, Schiem served up seconds, then thirds. Before too long we were licking the grease from our fingers and filling in the corners. I decided to get to business. If Scheim wasn't ready for some gossip now, he never would be.

“Oi'm surprised tae see yeh out and aboot wit all tae bad business lately.”

“Wot business is that?” he asked.

He didn't know about the wedding massacre yet. Perfect. While he couldn't give me particulars about the attack itself, it meant he would be more willing to talk about the events leading up to the wedding. Even if everyone in town wasn't scared to death, I doubted I'd be able to find anyone willing to speak with frank honesty about the dead.

“Oi heard they had some trouble up on Mauthen farm,” I said, keeping my information as vague and inoffensive as possible.

He snorted. “Can't say as Oi find that startlen in the leest.”

“How's that?”

Schiem spat to the side. “Mauthens are a right lot o' bastards, an' no better than they should be.” He shook his head again. “I keep off Borrorill cause Oi've got one lick o' good sense me mum beat into me. Mauthen dain't even have that.”

It wasn't until I heard Schiem say the name of the place in his thick accent that I heard it properly. It wasn't borro-rill. It had nothing to do with a rill. It was barrow-hill.

“Oi don't even graze my pegs there, but that daft bastard builds a house….” He shook his head, disgusted.

“Didn't folk troi an' stop 'em?” Denna prompted.

The swineherd made a rude noise. “Mauthen ain't much for listenen. Nothin' plugs a man's ears like money.”

“Still, et's just a house,” I said dismissively. “Nae much harm in that.”

“Man wants his daughter tae have a fine house wit a view, that's all tae the good,” Schiem conceded. “But when ye're diggen the foundation an' yeh find bones an' such, an' yeh don't stop…that's a whole new type of stupid.”

“He didn't!” Denna said, aghast.

Schiem nodded, leaning forward. “An that weren't the worst o' it. He keeps diggen, an' he hits stones. Then does he stop?” He sniffed. “He starts pullen 'em up, looken for more so he can use them for the house!”

“Why wouldn't he want tae use the stones he found?” I asked.

Schiem looked at me like I was daft. “Would'e build a house wit barrow stones? Would yeh dig something out o' a barrow an' give it to your daughter as a wedding present?”

“He found something? What was it?” I passed him the bottle.

“Well that's the greet damn secret, hain't it?” Schiem said bitterly, taking another drink. “From wot I hear, he was out there, diggen the house foundation, an' pullen up stones. Then he finds a little stone room all sealed up toight. But he makes everybody keep mum about what he finds there on account he wants et tae be this greet surprise at the wedding.”

“Some sort o' treasure?” I asked.

“Nae money.” He shook his head. “Mauthen's never been quiet aboot that. Et were probably some sort o'…” his mouth opened and closed a bit, searching for a word, “…what de ye call something old that rich folk put on a shelf tae impress all their grummer friends?”

I gave a helpless shrug.

“An heirloom?” Denna said.

Schiem laid his finger alongside his nose and then pointed to her, smiling. “That's et. Some flash thing tae impress folk. He's a showy bastard, Mauthen is.”

“So nobody knew what et was?” I asked.

Schiem nodded. “There was only the handful that knew. Mauthen and his brother, two o' the sons, an' mebbe his woife. The lot o' them been lording the big secret over folk for half a year, smug as pontiffs.”

This cast everything in a new light. I needed to get back up to the farm and look at things again.

“'Ave yeh seen anyone around these parts today?” Denna asked. “We're looken for moi uncle.”

Schiem shook his head. “Can't say as Oi've had the pleasure.”

“Oi'm really worried about him,” she pressed.

“Oi won't lie tae yeh, dearie,” he said. “Yeh've got reason tae be worried ef he's alone in these woods.”

“Are there bad folk around?” I asked.

“Nae like yeh're thinkin',” he said. “I dan't get down here but once a year in the fall. Forage for the hogs makes it worth moi while, but only just. There's strange things in these woods. Especial off tae the north.” He looked at Denna, then down at his feet, obviously unsure as to whether or not he should continue.

This is exactly the sort of thing I wanted to know about, so I waved his comment away, hoping to provoke him. “Dan't go telling us faerie stories, Schiem.”

Schiem frowned. “Two nights ago, when I got up tae—” he hesitated, glancing at Denna, “—attend tae moi personals, I saw lights off tae the north. A big wash o' blue flame. Big as a bonfire, but all o' a sudden.” He snapped his fingers. “Then nothing. Happened three times. Sent a chill roight down the middle of my back.”

“
Two
nights ago?” I asked. The wedding had only been last night.

“Oi said two nights, din't Oi?” Schiem said. “Oi've been making my way south ever since. Oi want nae part of whatever it es making blue fire in the night up there.”

“Schiem, really. Blue fire?”

“Oi'm not some lying Ruh, spinning stories to scare yeh out o' pennies, boy,” he said, plainly irritated. “I spent moi loife in these hills. Everyone knows that there's somethen out in the north bluffs. There's a reason folk stay away from there.”

“Aren't there any farms out there?” I asked.

“There's no place tae farm on the bluffs, unless yoor growen rocks,” he said hotly. “Yeh think Oi dan't know a candle or a campfire when I see one? Et was blue, Oi tell ye. Greet billows o' et,” he made an expansive gesture with his arms. “Loik when yeh pour liquor on a fire.”

I let it go, and turned the conversation elsewhere. Before too long Sheim gave a deep sigh and got to his feet. “The pegs'll have picked this place clean by now,” he said, picking up his walking stick and shaking it so the crude bell clanked loudly. Pigs came trotting up obediently from all directions. “Loo pegs!” He shouted. “Pegs pegs pegs! C'man ye counts!”

I wrapped up the remains of the cooked pig in a piece of sackcloth, and Denna made a few trips with the water bottle and doused the fire. By the time we were finished, Schiem had his sounder in order. It was larger than I'd thought. More than two dozen full-grown sows, plus the young pigs and the boar with the grey, bristling back. He gave a brief wave, and without any further word headed off, the bell on his walking stick clanking as he walked and his pigs trailing in a loose mob behind him.

“Well that wasn't terribly subtle,” Denna said.

“I had to push him a bit,” I said. “Superstitious folk don't like to talk about things they're afraid of. He was about to clam up, and I needed to know what he'd seen in the forest.”

“I could have gotten it out of him,” she said. “More flies with honey and all that.”

“You probably could have,” I admitted as I shouldered my travelsack and began to walk. “I thought you said you didn't speak bumpkin.”

“I've got a mimic's ear,” she said with an indifferent shrug. “I pick up things like that pretty quickly.”

“Surprised the hell out of moi…” I spat. “Damn. I'm going to be a whole span of days getting rid of that accent. Like a piece of gristle in my teeth.”

Denna was eyeing the surrounding landscape despondently. “I guess we should get back to beating the bushes, then. Find my patron and find you some answers.”

“No point, really,” I said.

“I know, but I can't give up without at least trying.”

“That's not what I mean. Look…” I pointed to where the pigs had rooted around in the dirt and leaves, going after some choice morsel. “He's been letting his pigs graze all over. Even if there is a trail, we'd never find it.”

She drew a long breath and let it out in a tired sigh. “Is there anything left in that bottle?” she asked wearily. “My head still aches.”

“I'm an idiot,” I said, looking around. “I wish you'd mentioned it was bothering you sooner.” I walked over to a young birch tree, cut off several long strips of bark, and brought them back to her. “The inside of the bark is a good painkiller.”

“You're a handy fellow to have around.” She peeled some off with a fingernail and put it in her mouth. She wrinkled her nose. “Bitter.”

“That's how you know it's real medicine,” I said. “If it tasted good it would be candy.”

“Isn't that the way of the world?” she said. “We want the sweet things, but we need the unpleasant ones.” She smiled when she said it, but only with her mouth. “Speaking of,” she said, “how am I going to find my patron? I'm open to suggestions.”

“I have an idea,” I said, shouldering my travelsack. “But first we have to head back up to the farm. There's something I need to take a second look at.”

 

We made our way back to the top of Barrow Hill, and I saw how it had come by its name. Odd, irregular lumps rose and fell despite the fact that there weren't any other rocks nearby. Now that I was looking for them, they were impossible to miss.

“What is it you needed to look at?” Denna said. “Realize that if you attempt to go inside the house I might be forced to physically restrain you.”

“Look at the house,” I said. “Now look at the bluff that's sticking out of the trees behind it.” I pointed. “The rock around here is dark…”

“…and the stones of the house are grey,” she finished.

I nodded.

She continued to look at me expectantly. “And that means what, exactly? Like he said, they found barrow stones.”

“There aren't any barrows around here,” I said. “People build barrows in Vintas, where it's traditional, or in low, marshy places where you can't dig a grave. We're probably five hundred miles away from a real barrow.”

I walked closer to the farmhouse. “Besides, you don't use stones to build barrows. Even if you did, you wouldn't use quarried, finished stone like this. This was brought from a long ways off.” I ran a hand over the smooth grey stones of the wall. “Because someone wanted to build something that would last. Something solid.” I turned back to face Denna. “I think there's an old hill fort buried here.”

Denna thought about it for a moment. “Why would they call it barrow hill if there weren't real barrows?”

“Probably because folk around here haven't ever seen a real barrow, just heard about them in stories. When they find a hill with big mounds on it…” I pointed out the oddly shaped hillocks. “Barrow Hill.”

“But this is nowhere.” She looked around aimlessly. “This is the outside edge of nowhere….”

“Now it is,” I agreed. “But back when this was built?” I gestured to a break in the trees to the north of the burned farmhouse. “Come over here for a second. I want to look at something else.”

Walking past the trees on the northern ridge of the hill gave a gorgeous view of the surrounding countryside. The red and yellow of autumn leaves were breathtaking. I could see a few houses and barns scattered about, surrounded by golden fields, or pale green pieces of pasture with dots of white sheep. I could see the stream where Denna and I had dandled our feet.

Looking north, I could see the bluffs Schiem had mentioned. The land looked rougher there.

I nodded mostly to myself. “You can see thirty miles in every direction here. The only hill with a better view is that one.” I pointed to a tall hill obscuring my view of the northern bluffs. “And that one practically comes to a point. It's too narrow on top for any decent sized fortification.”

She looked around thoughtfully, then nodded. “Fair enough, you've sold me. There was a hill fort here. What now?”

“Well, I'd like to make it to the top of that hill before we set camp tonight.” I pointed at the tall narrow hill that was currently hiding part of the bluffs from our sight. “It's only a mile or two, and if there's anything strange going on in the north bluffs, we'll have a clear view of it from there.” I thought for a moment. “Plus, if Ash is anywhere within twenty miles he could see our fire and come to us. If he's trying to keep a low profile and doesn't want to go into town, he might still approach a campfire.”

Denna nodded. “That certainly beats the hell out of stumbling around in the brush.”

“I have my moments,” I said, making a grand gesture down the hill. “Please, ladies first.”

D
ESPITE OUR GENERAL WEARINESS, Denna and I made good time and came to the top of the northern hill just as the sun was setting behind the mountains. Though trees ringed the hill on all sides, its peak was bald as a priest's head. The unrestricted view in all directions was breathtaking. My only regret is that the clouds had blown in while we walked, leaving the sky flat and grey as slate.

To the south I could see a handful of small farms. A few streams and narrow roads cut meandering paths through the trees. The western mountains were like a distant wall. To the south and east I could see smoke rising into the sky and the low, brown buildings of Trebon.

Turning north I saw that what the swineherd had said was true. There were no signs of human habitation in that direction. No roads or farms or chimney smoke, just increasingly rough ground, exposed rock, and trees clinging to the bluffs.

The only thing on the top of the hill was a handful of greystones. Three of the massive stones were stacked together to form a huge arch, like a massive doorway. The other two lay on their sides, as if lounging in the thick grass. I found their presence comforting, like the unexpected company of old friends.

Denna sat on one of the fallen greystones as I stood looking out over the countryside. I felt a slight prickle of rain against my face and muttered a curse, flipping the hood of my cloak up.

“It won't last long,” Denna said. “It's done this the last couple nights. Clouds up, soaks for about half an hour, then blows over.”

“Good,” I said. “I hate sleeping in the rain.”

I set my travelsack on the leeward side of one of the greystones and the two of us began to set up camp. We each went about our business as if we'd done this a hundred times before. Denna cleared a space for a fire and gathered stones. I brought back an armload of wood and got the fire going quickly. On my next trip I gathered some sage and dug up a few wild onions I'd noticed on the way up the hill.

The rain came down hard, then tapered off as I started to make supper. I used my small cookpot to make a stew with the leftover pork from lunch, some carrots and potatoes, and the onions I'd found. I seasoned it with salt, pepper, and sage, then warmed a loaf of flatbread near the fire and broke open the wax on the cheese. Last of all, I tucked two apples in among the hot rocks of the fire. They'd be baked in time for dessert.

By the time dinner was ready, Denna had amassed a small mountain of firewood. I spread out my blanket for her to sit on, and she made appreciative noises over the food as we set about eating.

“A girl could get used to this sort of treatment,” Denna said after we'd finished. She leaned contentedly back against one of the greystones. “If you had your lute here, you could sing me to sleep and everything would be perfect.”

“I met a tinker on the road this morning, and he tried to sell me a bottle of fruit wine,” I said. “I wish I'd taken him up on his offer.”

“I love fruit wine,” she said. “Was it strawberry?”

“I think it was,” I admitted.

“Well that's what you get for not listening to a tinker on the road,” she chided, her eyes drowsy. “Clever boy like you has heard enough stories to know better….” She sat up suddenly, pointing over my shoulder. “Look!”

I turned. “What am I looking for?” I asked. The sky was still thick with clouds, so the surrounding countryside was just a sea of black.

“Just keep looking. Maybe it will…. There!”

I saw it. A flicker of blue light off in the distance. I got to my feet and put the fire behind me so it wouldn't dull my vision. Denna came to stand beside me and we waited breathlessly for a moment. Another swell of blue light, stronger.

“What do you think that is?” I asked.

“I'm pretty sure all the iron mines are off to the west,” Denna mused. “It can't be that.”

There was another flare. It did seem to be coming from the bluffs, which meant that if it was a flame, it was a big one. At least several times larger than our own fire.

“You said your patron had a way of signaling you,” I said slowly. “I don't mean to pry, but it's not…”

“No. It's nothing to do with blue fire,” she said with a low chuckle at my discomfiture. “That would be altogether too sinister, even for him.”

We watched for a while longer, but it didn't happen again. I took a branch about as big around as my thumb, broke it in half, then used a rock to pound both halves into the earth like tent stakes. Denna raised a questioning eyebrow.

“It points toward where we saw the light,” I said. “I can't see any landmarks in this dark, but in the morning this will show us what direction it was in.”

We reclaimed our previous seats and I threw more wood on the fire, sending sparks twinkling up into the air. “One of us should probably stay up with the fire,” I said. “In case anyone shows up.”

“I don't tend to sleep through the night anyway,” Denna said. “So that shouldn't be a problem.”

“You have trouble sleeping?”

“I have dreams,” she said in a tone of voice that made it clear that was all she had to say on the subject.

I picked at some brownbur that clung to the edge of my cloak, pulling it out and tossing it into the fire. “I think I've got an idea about what happened at the Mauthen farm.”

She perked up. “Do tell.”

“The question is: Why would the Chandrian attack at that specific place and time?”

“The wedding, obviously.”

“But why this particular wedding? Why this night?”

“Why don't you just tell me?” Denna said, rubbing her forehead. “Don't try to tease me into some sort of sudden burst of understanding like you're my schoolmaster.”

I felt myself flush hot with embarrassment again. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. Normally I'd love nothing more than some witty back and forth with you, but I've had a long day and my head aches. Just skip to the end….”

“It's whatever Mauthen found while he was digging up the old hill fort, looking for stones,” I said. “He dug something out of the ruins and gossiped about it for months. The Chandrian heard and showed up to steal it.” I finished with a bit of a flourish.

Denna frowned. “Doesn't hold together. If all they wanted was the item, they could have waited until after the wedding and just killed the newlyweds. Much easier.”

That took some of the wind out of my sails. “You're right.”

“It would make more sense if what they really wanted was to get rid of all knowledge of the thing. Like Old King Celon when he thought his regent was going to expose him for treason. Killed the fellow's whole family and burned down their estate to make sure no word got out or evidence was left for anyone to find.”

Denna gestured off to the south. “Since everyone who knew the secret would be at the wedding, the Chandrian can come in, kill everyone who knows anything, and either destroy or steal whatever it is.” She made a motion with the flat of her hand. “Clean sweep.”

I sat stunned. Not so much by what Denna had said, which was, of course, better than my own guess. I was remembering what had happened to my own troupe.
Someone's parents have been singing entirely the wrong sort of songs.
But they hadn't just killed my parents. They killed everyone who had been close enough to hear even a part of the song.

Denna rolled herself into my blanket and curled up with her back to the fire. “I will allow you to ponder my vast cleverness while I sleep. Wake me when you need anything else figured out.”

I stayed awake mostly through an effort of will. I'd had a long, grueling day, riding sixty miles and walking a half dozen more. But Denna was hurt and needed her sleep more. Besides, I wanted to keep an eye out for any more signs of the blue light to the north.

There weren't any. I fed the fire and wondered vaguely if Wil and Sim were worried about my sudden disappearance back at the University. What of Arwyl and Elxa Dal and Kilvin? Would they wonder what happened to me? I should have left a note….

I had no way to track the time, as the clouds still hid the stars. But I had fed the fire at least six or seven times when I saw Denna stiffen and come suddenly awake. She didn't bolt upright, but her breathing stopped and I saw her dark eyes dart about wildly, as if she didn't know where she was.

“Sorry,” I said, mostly to give her something familiar to focus on. “Did I wake you?”

She relaxed and sat up. “No, I…no. Not at all. I'm done sleeping for a bit. You want a turn?” She rubbed at her eyes and peered at me over the fire. “Silly question. You look like hell.” She began to unwrap the blanket from around herself. “Here…”

I waved it off. “Keep it. My cloak is good enough for me.” I put my hood up and lay down on the grass.

“What a gentleman,” she teased gently, wrapping it across her shoulders.

I pillowed my head with my arm, and while I was trying to think of a clever response, I fell asleep.

 

I woke from a dim dream of moving through a crowded street to the sight of Denna's face above me, rosy and sharply shadowed by the firelight. All in all, a very pleasant way to wake up.

I was about to say something to that effect when she put her finger over my lips, distracting me in about eighteen different ways.

“Quiet,” she said softly. “Listen.”

I sat up.

“Do you hear it?” she asked after a moment.

I cocked my head. “Just the wind…”

She shook her head and cut me off with a gesture. “There!”

I did hear it. At first I thought it was some disturbed rocks sliding down the hill, but no, this didn't fade into the distance like that would. It sounded more like something being dragged up the side of the hill.

I got to my feet and looked around. While I'd slept the clouds had blown away, and now the moon lit the surrounding countryside in pale silver light. Our wide firepit was brim full of shimmering coals.

Just then, not far down the hillside, I heard…to say I heard a branch breaking would mislead you. When a person moving through the woods breaks a branch, it makes a short, sharp
snap.
This is because any branch a man breaks accidentally is small and breaks quickly.

What I heard was no twig snapping. It was a long cracking sound. The sound a leg-thick branch makes when it's torn from a tree:
kreek-kerrrka-krraakkk
.

Then, as I turned to look at Denna, I heard the other noise. How can I describe it?

When I was young my mother took me to see a menagerie in Senarin. It was the only time I had ever seen a lion, and the only time I had heard one roar. The other children in the crowd were frightened, but I laughed, delighted. The sound was so deep and low that I could feel it rumble in my chest. I loved the feeling and remember it to this day.

The sound I heard on the hill near Trebon was not a lion's roar, but I felt it in my chest the same way. It was a grunt, deeper than a lion's roar. Closer to the sound of thunder in the distance.

Another branch broke, almost on the crest of the hill. I looked in that direction and saw a huge shape dimly lined by the firelight. I felt the ground shudder slightly under my feet. Denna turned to look at me, her eyes wide with panic.

I grabbed hold of her arm and ran toward the opposite side of the hill. Denna kept up with me at first, then planted her feet when she saw where I was headed. “Don't be stupid,” she hissed. “We'll break our necks if we run down that in the dark.” She cast around wildly, then looked up at the nearby greystones. “Get me up there and I'll haul you up after.”

I laced my fingers together to make a step. She put her foot into it, and I heaved so hard I almost threw her into the air where she could catch the edge of the stone. I waited a brief moment until she swung her leg up, then I slung my travelsack over my shoulder, and scrambled up the side of the massive stone.

Rather I should say I scrambled
at
the side of the massive stone. It was worn smooth by ages of weather and didn't have any handholds to speak of. I slid to the ground, my hands scrabbling ineffectually.

I bolted to the other side of the arch, hopped up onto one of the lower stones, and made another leap.

I hit the rock hard, all along the front of my body, knocking the wind out of me and banging my knee. My hands gripped at the top of the arch, but I couldn't find any purchase—

Denna caught me. If this were some heroic ballad, I would tell you how she clasped my hand firmly and pulled me to safety. But the truth is she got hold of my shirt with one hand while the other made a tight fist in my hair. She hauled hard and kept me from falling long enough for me to catch a grip and scramble to the top of the stone with her.

As we lay there, panting, we peered over the edge of the stone. Down on the hilltop, the dim shape was beginning to move into the circle of our firelight. Half hidden in the shadows, it looked larger than any animal I had ever seen, big as a loaded wagon. It was black, with a massive body like a bull's. It came closer, moving in an odd shuffle, not like a bull or a horse. The wind fanned the fire, causing it to flare up, and I saw it carried its thick body close to the ground, legs out to the side, like a lizard.

When it came farther into the light the comparison was impossible to avoid. It was a huge lizard. Not long like a snake, it was squat like a cinder brick, its thick neck blending into a head shaped like a massive flat wedge.

It covered half the distance from the crest of the hill to our fire in a single, spastic burst of speed. It grunted again, deep like rumbling thunder, and I felt it in my chest. As it came closer it moved past the other greystone that lay in the grass, and I realized my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. It was bigger than the greystone. Six feet high at the shoulder, fifteen feet long. Big as a horsecart. Massive as a dozen bulls tied together.